No One Knows Who I Am
by LightGoddessKalinda
Summary: Relena realizes her work is not all she wants in her life. The problem is, work may be all she has left.
1. No One Knows Who I Am

No One Knows Who I Am

This song was taken from the musical Jekyll and Hyde. It is the property of one of the many companies that produces Broadway musicals.

Warnings: None really, except Relena's character is so hard to accurately capture that I think I may have made her OOC a few times.

Rating: PG?

Couples: This is my big surprise, no spoilers!

Look at me and tell me who I am

Why I am

What I am

Call me a fool and its true I am

I can't believe I'm at another birthday party in which I don't know most of the people in the room. I could have sworn I requested a SMALL celebration. I'm going to find out who was responsible for this and see to it that they find a large bag of cat poo on their desk in the morning. Why is it that no one wants to listen to me unless I'm standing on a podium reading a well rehearsed speech?

I must have greeted everyone in the room by now. Another fifteen minutes and I'll be able to sneak out and get some air. I'd better come back though; I can't really count on anyone to play the gracious hostess in my absence and far be it from me to turn this into a political nightmare on top of a personal one. Honestly, I think I've had bad dreams that followed this exact thread. Except in the dream I'm naked.

There's Lady Une. Maybe I could go stand with her. She usually requires relatively little actual conversation and she is uncommonly good at making meaningless small talk. It's also a plus that no diplomat wants to come within fifty feet of her. That reminds me, what did my aids dress me in again? The last thing I need is to have a drunken senator try to feel me up again. That's one birthday memory I'd love to block out. Then again, who would I have invited to my personal celebration? Maybe this is one way to stop my birthday from being a complete bust. I mean, I may as well benefit politically if I can't do anything else. That's it Relena, think positive. Nevermind the fact that the scumbag diplomat from Belgium is about to ask you to dance and you have no plausible excuse to refuse him. Nevermind that you are in an insanely tight dress with shoes that could be used as lethal weapons. Nevermind that you have no social life. Oh great, now I'm going to cry.

If I don't get out of this room in five minutes I'm going to scream. Every other day of the year I do this. Heck, on most days I even enjoy it. Shmoozing is an important part of politics, and I am very good at it. But this is my birthday! I want to get drunk, sing karaoke, do anything other then what I do every other day of the year! Okay, so maybe I want to skip the getting drunk bit, but I would like to try karaoke one day. The problem of course is the fact that I have no one to go with.

I think Millardo read my mind. I must add this to our short list of loving brother-sister moments. This makes six, I think. He asked me to dance and deftly steered me out onto the balcony.

"Aren't you having a good time?" My brother is handsome, I see that now. He is with Noin now, I believe. Or perhaps he always was and simply never saw it. His eyes are a lovely ice blue and his white blonde hair is thick and healthy. There is a small amount of resemblance between us that I had never noticed before. We have a similar bone structure, our eyes are set the same, and when we frown our faces contort the same way.

"Of course I am Brother." I add the last word to placate him. He unconsciously relaxes when I call him that, as though things between us are as normal as he seems to want them to be. For good measure, I put the "friendly" smile on. I have several well-practiced smiles and the ability to chose between them in seconds when necessary.

"You look tired." He isn't sure if he believes me. A flat out denial of the fact that I'm not sleeping will only put him more on guard. I need an answer that admits fault but is unspecific enough to keep him off balance.

"I've been working on an important proposal lately; it's been stressful." I deliver this line with my "sheepish" smile.

"Take care of yourself." And there he goes again. He bought it hook line and sinker. It's getting easier to lie to people who love me.

Once again the highlight of my birthday was the arrival of a hand sewn stuffed teddy bear with a simple, unsigned card that read "Happy Birthday". It may sound pathetic, but I live for moments like these.

I don't know who I am

It's such a shame

I'm such a sham

No one knows who I am

I love my job. Really, I do. That's probably the one thing I am absolutely sure of. What I hate is the degree of pressure that accompanies my job. I'm getting much better at dealing with it, but occasionally I get into funks like this one. In a young government like this one large chunks of work are given to few people. It will be years before we learn to spread it out better and by then I will have been sucked dry of all my enthusiasm. At least that's what the sinking sensation in the back of my mind tells me.

I finished high school and college through a great deal of work with personal tutors. Naturally I received A's as expected and I worked my butt off for every single one of them. Soon I will be beginning my Masters. Whatever free time I can claim to have now will be sucked into the vacuum. I'm twenty one years old, and something is terribly wrong with me.

The sense of accomplishment I get when I push a particularly important treaty and have it ratified is unrivaled. I literally get my kicks from watching the news and knowing how I impacted it. I'm a media favorite, a little girl in a man's game that somehow manages to hold her own. The truth is I grew up around people like the ones I work with. I've always known how to deal with these people. My private school education and the peers I met there had me more then ready for the back stabbing and pettiness of the political arena. The personalized education I was able to get from my tutors honed my debate skills. Now I can not only stand before the entire world with poise and dignity, but I can argue with someone twice my age and win with ease. I have a good mind for what I do. I have energy and a belief in my work that makes my speeches interesting, and a way with people that allows me to somehow talk even the most stubborn people into at least hearing me out. So why am I so tired? Because even a twenty one year old can't run on no sleep for more then a month.

My health started deteriorating the day I realized I had worked fifteen hour days for more then two months without anyone calling to ask after me. Being a workaholic is one thing, but being alone is another. I could literally be defined as a hermit. I've never been on a real date. There have been offers, all politely declined, but never from someone I could picture myself having a good time with. I have a lot of "friends", meaning acquaintances that I can have pleasant conversations with when we meet at social events, but no buddies. My brother is easily conned into believing I'm alright and I prefer it that way. He would only worry about me if I pursued a closer relationship with him right now. I want to be close to him, but I would prefer to have some kind of social life to point to when he asks me what I have been up to.

I could always call up some of my old friends from high school. They wouldn't really be good for a casual outing or a deep conversation, but I could always take them to some ritzy place and at least not feel alone. The flaw with that plan is that I am once again only pretending to be happy.

What do I want? I don't even know anymore. I have no idea what I would consider fun right now. I haven't done anything casual since I was fifteen and Heero... No, I'm not going to think of him. That always makes things worse and I honestly don't need another reminder of why I am pathetic.

But seriously, what do I like to do? I enjoy reading a great deal, and I don't think I'm a bad chess player, but what would I do in groups? I can't even remember. I know I used to like horseback riding. Maybe I should take it up again. A little workout and spending more time with animals might be good for me. Lord knows I have the money to do it. Still, that hobby really doesn't help me gain some kind of a social life. A hobby is nice, but what I need is a friend.

Am I the face of the future?

Am I the face of the past?

Am I the one who must finish last?

Sometimes I think about what is going to happen to me. When my beauty (if I can really call it that), fades away and my words don't come as easily, will there be anything left for me? I know I'm being set up for a fall. No one enjoys as much popularity among the public as I have right now for long. When even the people I strive to aid abandon me will there be anyone left to care? I know Dorothy is willing to be my friend, but I don't trust her intentions and I can't help but feel she doesn't really care about knowing the real me.

Being well known has some very bad downsides. I can't just go out and try to make friends; everyone in the world already has a perception of me. No one wants to know me outside of my persona and I can't blame them. Celebrities are terribly disappointing in the flesh.

I have a business trip to the colonies soon. Maybe if I'm lucky I'll see another shooting star. Heck, I'd settle for seeing my first one again. If I ever needed his strength, I need it now. Shame on you Relena! What happened to not thinking of him?

I have been at this table for years. I swear, Representative McQuaid is the most long winded man in history. Representative Winner looks like he's going to fall asleep. I've been watching him intently for the last few minutes; I recognized him almost as soon as I entered the room. He was a Gundam Pilot. He might know where... Well, at the very least he might have some interesting stories for me. I have absolutely no idea how to go about approaching him. It would be cruel to invite him to a business dinner and then start to talk about his war experiences, but I can't ask him on a date because that would be even more dishonest. He's a good looking young man; platinum blonde with clear eyes only a few shades off from my own. He has great posture and he obviously works out. Not that I'm looking. He does not appear to have noticed I am staring at him, but then again he was a spy for a while so that seems unlikely. He must know who I am. Besides my massive media exposure he had spent a great deal of time in my home and company when he and Heero had come to stay.

My internal debate was completely pointless, because no sooner had we exited the conference room then a gorgeous young woman ran over to Mr. Winner and wrapped herself around his arm. A woman like that would not want her boyfriend on even a business dinner with another female unaccompanied. I can't believe I thought a gentleman like that would be single. Men like him are snatched up faster then you can say "sharks" and they are rarely allowed to escape by the women lucky enough to catch them. Besides, it had been many years since I had seen him, he may not even remember our acquaintance.

Where on Earth is my limo? Pagan usually brings it right around the instant the conference is done. Oh, just peachy. We're over three hours overdue, I'll have to call him and wait. I can't believe I forgot to call him and tell him we were late. That man has been wonderful to me all this time and I had the indecency to let him sit out here for God knows how long waiting for me.

"Ms. Peacecraft!" I hear swift footsteps behind me and I turn to look. It's Mr. Winner. My name is actually Darlin now, but who am I to correct him?

"Mr. Winner?" I ask politely. I need to school my expression, or he's going to notice the attract- I mean, great respect I have for him.

He's smiling with an impossible amount of kindness and light shining through his eyes. He's breaking my heart and I don't know why. "You seem to be without a ride." He says smoothly, his smile soft and his manner unassuming.

Now I am reasonably certain I can have Pagan over in about five minutes, but I wouldn't be a good politician if I didn't take advantage of moments like this. "Yes, it seems I am." I say, my "demure" smile carefully in place.

His smile splits into a grin. He really is beautiful. "Then maybe I can interest you in a ride home, and, possibly, a bite to eat?"

I have a feeling the bombshell is not going to be too happy about this. Honestly, I could care less. "I'd love to." I don't even have to school my expression, I am genuinely happy about the turn of events.

"You haven't asked me yet." He said, his expression suddenly turning serious. I had known this moment was coming, but it made it no easier to face.

"I was hoping to wait you out." I said it with as much humor as possible, but he didn't even crack a smile.

"Well you succeeded. Ask me." His expression said it all, why was he trying to make me say it out loud?

"You don't know where he is." I said flatly. I belatedly realized how dead my voice must have sounded and that I had sunk into my chair further then was lady like. Instantly, I sat back up and smoothed out my dress.

"No, it's worse then that. I know exactly where he is, but I won't tell you. He doesn't want you to know." I think that was when I stood up, but I can't be sure.

"Thank you for dinner..." I hesitated, what else could I say to him? He looked abashed, like he had done something wrong. He had told me the truth quickly, and it was probably kinder that way. I didn't have the heart to reassure him, even though a small part of me was saying that that was the right thing to do.

"Ms. Relena-" He had stood up at that point, at least I think so. I waved him off with something and made my hasty retreat. I called Pagan on my cell phone, I'm fairly certain he came fairly quickly. What I know for sure is that when I got to my hotel room I instantly collapsed into a dreamless sleep. I didn't even take off my business suit.

Look at me and tell me who I am

Why I am

What I am

Will I survive?

Who will give a damn?

If no one knows who I am

How had this happened? I have become the girl that a guy tells all of his friends to help him hide from. I am literally the stalker Heero went into hiding to escape from. This is why I'm alone. It's not my job, it's me. It's no one else's problem, it's mine.

I have a million phone messages. Most of them are from Mr. Winner. He keeps calling me Relena, as though the fact that he has shattered my self image makes us close enough to be on a first name basis. Alright, that statement is unfair, but I have been highly irritable all day today. The conference is in an hour, and I will have to see him again soon. I'm not sure I can do it. He has seen how ridiculous I am and he knows about my many escapades in pursuit of a man who thinks I'm a stalker. I have never been so afraid to face a person in my life. My father certainly never inspired this kind of intimidation.

I managed to time this perfectly. I am the last person in the room and the conference is beginning; he won't have time to approach me. If my luck holds I'll be able to beat the crowd out and hop in my car before he even has time to call out to me. If my luck doesn't hold, then I'll just have to be as polite as I possibly can. I always am.

Nobody knows

Not even me

No one knows who I am


	2. Save Your Pity

No One Knows Who I Am

This story is from Relena's point of view for most chapters, but I reserve the right to switch perspectives.

Warnings: A little self-pity. : (

Rating: PG?

I'm going to have to get a dog. Or maybe a cat. Or both, both would be good. What better way to have someone happy to see me when I get home? I could really use some unconditional love right now, along with a massage, a hot bath and a brick of chocolate. He pities me. He wants to make me feel better, but I don't think he realizes that that is not going to be an easy task.

Mr. Winner cornered me after the conference. I suppose I should have known he would, he probably had the whole thing well planned. I was halfway to the door of the conference room when he took hold of my hand and led me over to a private corner. I noticed a few raised eyebrows from the other delegates, and I knew I was going to hear about this later in the media.

"Miss Relena," he began hesitantly, and I almost told him not to use my first name. Before I could work up the nerve he continued. "I'm sorry." That was it. That was all I was going to get.

What in the name of God was he sorry for? Was he sorry for me? I would rather have him despise me then pity me. "Sorry for what?" I said, my perfect calm emanating from every fiber of my being. I come into my own in high pressure situations, and I had detached myself enough from what was happening to treat this like any other political crisis.

He stared at me in disbelief. My cool was unnerving him. On some level, that brought me satisfaction. This boy would crack long before he would see any weakness from me again. "I'm sorry for the way things are... And I want to explain." By then he was looking at me with pity again, and I hated him for it.

"Explain? I'm sorry Mr. Winner but I have a flight in a few hours and several pressing things to handle beforehand." And with that I brushed past him. I could feel his eyes on my back and for a moment I thought he would pursue me. To my satisfaction he let me go.

Flights are usually when I catch up on my sleep, but this time I can't seem to shut my mind off. What had possessed me to look on Heero's birthday gift as a sign of affection? In fact, what made me sure that the bears were coming from Heero at all? Certainly the first one had, but what about the next ones? No, the bears are from Heero, I have simply misread their meaning. Heero probably treats giving me a gift like his yearly good deed. It's like going to the soup kitchens at Christmas; it's just one act of charity a year. Yes, I have become Heero's community service. He must spend hours laboring over these bears. I can only imagine what runs through his mind as he sews them together. Does he resent that he has to make them? Is he trying to repay me, or make up his rejection to me? I have no way to know. What I do know is that I'm getting rid of those teddy bears. All of them, they need to be removed from my room. If I look at the shelf where they sit every day it will only serve to depress me further.

I saw the headlines and I almost laughed. Instead, I screamed. On the front page of nearly every newspaper were photos of Mr. Winner and myself having dinner. Most of the delegates at the conference have given interviews, some of them were honest, and some stretched the truth. The myth about politicians is that they lie. That is rarely correct. We simply know how to phrase the truth in just the manner we want to.

My brother wants to know what is happening. For once, I didn't even have to lie. He dislikes that untrue things are being insinuated about me, but there is little he can do about it. Personally, I think the press was just so shocked to see me out to dinner with someone that they immediately assumed I had finally begun to date. It's not all that unnatural an assumption, I suppose.

The most laughable article is the one that says I call him Quatre. Honestly, I'm not even on a first name basis with my bodyguard! I barely manage to call Noin by Noin, and that's not even her real first name! The only man other then family that I've ever been comfortable enough to call by his first name is He-. Is someone who is no longer a part of my life.

Old memories die hard. I tried to destroy the bears, but all I have the strength to do right now is put them away in boxes. They are carefully stacked in my closet, right where I can get them out in my moments of weakness. I need a more permanent solution, but I can't think of one.

Large crowds usually energize me, but this speech is dead and I know it. I'm muddling through at best, and everyone seems to be falling asleep. Hell, I'm falling asleep. There is a man coming up the left aisle, but I suppose he's just another late arrival trying to find his group. I'm almost done anyway, so I suppose it doesn't matter if he came in late. Someone will fill him in later. What's he doing? Come one Relena, pay attention, someone spent a long time writing this for you.

The crack was what caught me by surprise. It didn't even register in my mind that he had a gun; I didn't have time to be frightened. One of my bodyguards went down in front of me. At first, I wasn't sure what was happening, but then it clicked.

It's funny, the things you think when you see yourself in a dire situation. As my bodyguard was plunging toward the Earth in front of me I had the most irrational thought of my life, and given my history that's saying something. When he hit the dirt, the only thought in my head was, "I wish that was me."

Then I got my wish.

Being shot does not hurt at first if the world has slowed to a crawl. When things are very surreal, you tend not to notice pain or sorrow or anything of much significance. What you do notice are the odd things. It may pop into your head that you left the stove on, or you may have an oddly detached thought about the situation you are in. You don't actually feel pain until someone snaps you back into reality. In my case, it was a screaming woman in row three.

Once I had snapped out of my haze I felt fire ripping through my body. My legs suddenly lack the strength to support me and I collapsed on top of my bodyguard. I was gasping for air. Someone pulled me off the guard and I then recalled that the man in front of me was a father of four with a sweet disposition. I wanted to vomit. I wanted to scream. Above all, I wanted Heero.

The people around me were frightened; they were looking for someone, anyone to reassure them. I gave those gathered around me a tight smile. I tried to murmur something about being alright, but all that came out was an awful croak. I couldn't breathe, if I had been thinking logically I would have known that meant I also couldn't speak. I looked down at myself and instantly wished I hadn't. I was bleeding. Someone was speaking, saying rapid things about three people down, two dead already. The world was growing dark; I felt like I was swimming in a storm swept sea. I couldn't get air, I couldn't see.

Waking up in a new room is no new experience for me. At first I assumed I was in another hotel room, and I tried to get up. Pain instantly ripped through me and reminded me instantly of where I was and why I was there. That poor man was dead. Three, they had said three people were shot. I needed to ask someone, but I was alone. I turned my head experimentally, and then I began to move my shoulders. I couldn't sit up, but I could move my head enough to see the door of my hospital room. I was in a standard surveillance room; I had a bedside table and a chair, white walls, and a ton of machinery. There was a breathing apparatus on my face and briefly I wondered if I needed it to survive.


	3. I'm Always Alone

No One Knows Who I Am

Warnings: Some language

Rating: PG

Author's Note: This may throw some of you. Just keep in mind; I haven't decided who my pairing is going to be yet. I only know it will NOT be Heero. I'm leaning toward Quatre, but you never know...

I've been writing this in first person because I need the practice. I'm best at writing third person omniscient, and first person has always been a weakness for me. I've had several comments about my choice of style, and that is the explanation.

What a little fool I'm being. Of course I don't want to die. Why on Earth would I think that, even for a second? There is no point to dwelling on things like this. I can't believe the things I have been thinking of late. "I wish that was me"? What kind of thought is that?

I need to find out what is happening. Did the gunman kill anyone else? Is my bodyguard's family being provided for? How long have I been out? My head is slightly elevated by the two pillows underneath it. I wonder who knew I liked to sleep like that?

My room is full of flowers. I don't know who sent them; I'm fairly certain their all from politicians or other members of the government. I would like to read my cards, but I can't reach them. The flowers surround me with their smiling faces of blue, white and yellow. There are sunflowers, daisies, daffodils, and dahlias. One person has sent roses. All this outpouring of affection and here I am contemplating suicide.

Wait a minute, who said I was contemplating suicide?

The nurse has entered the room, preventing me from considering the full ramifications of that stray thought. I smile tightly at her, trying not to bombard her with questions. She is a woman in her mid fifties, with a kindly face full of age wrinkles placed there from smiling too much. She is slightly overweight, a little duck footed and obviously good natured. She is watering my flowers. She must not have noticed my wakefulness, because she is humming a little tune and ignoring my smile completely. It looks like I'm going to have to be blunt.

"Is everyone else alright?" The nurse jumped ten feet in the air and dropped her watering can, letting water spill all over the floor. She turns to face me and shock radiates from her posture and expression. I might have found the situation comical if I had been in the right mood.

"Mrs. Darlin! You're awake! I need to tell Mr. Peacecraft, he's just stepped out for a minute..." So Millardo had stayed with me when I was hurt. My heart is swelling with a sudden sisterly affection for him. Whatever names I may call Millardo's love for me, "false" is not one of them.

"Was anyone else hurt?" I can see her expression tighten from one of pleasure to one of guarded uncertainty. "I know my bodyguard is... I know that he has passed on, but..." Her expression has relaxed; obviously that was what she was worried about.

"You and Mr. Graydon were the only ones shot. Except for the young man that targeted you of course." That has my interest. "He was only in his twenties they say, what a waste of a young man's life." The nurse prattles on cheerfully. Suddenly, a horrible though crosses my mind.

"What was the man's name?" I ask my voice breathless.

"I can't really remember. Something Fox, I think. Or maybe it was Bear. It was some kind of animal." I can feel all the muscles in my body relaxing. So Heero had not come back to fulfill his promise to me. Not that he really needs a gun. He said he would kill me, that doesn't mean he has to do it physically.

"Who sent the roses?" I ask, trying to change the subject.

"Mr. Winner ma'am, now I really must go find Mr. Peacecraft." So Mr. Winner has sent me roses. Does he still pity me? Or does he feel in some way responsible for what happened?

My brother and Pagan have hardly left my side since I woke up. I've read all of my cards and rearranged my flowers to just the way I like them. As expected, I didn't know most of the people who sent them to me. A shocking number came from average citizens. It's encouraging to think that I have positively impacted these people.

I'm still not allowed to move around a lot, but I am recovering. It's midnight, Millardo has finally gone home to get some much needed sleep, and I am alone. I'm lonely. I've spent all of this time trying to get my brother to leave, and now I'm lonely. How pathetic.

I can feel wetness on my face. Why I'm crying I don't know, but I can't seem to stop it. I'm sobbing uncontrollably now, and soon I'll attract the attention of one of the nurses. Why am I so out of control?

Sure enough, a young nurse has come in. I've got my head turned away from her, and I can hear her moving around the room, making small sighs as she makes sure everything is alright with my equipment. She's right next to me now, so close that the hairs on my arm are standing on end. Before I can stop myself, I grab her wrist as she turns to leave. "Please don't go." She is taking in my tear stained face, even in the dark she has to be able to tell that I'm not alright.

She looks stricken. She can't handle seeing me break down like this. It must be beyond her ability to comprehend. Why would the Foreign Minister, a woman so well loved by the world, be having an emotional breakdown? I'm going to hear about this on the four o'clock news tomorrow. She's going to sell her story and I don't care, as long as she doesn't leave me. "I'm just here to..." She looks confused and uncertain. All I can do is plead with her with my eyes not to go. Some kind of light bulb has clicked on in her head, because she is detangling herself from me. "I'll be back." She said kindly.

I'm alone in the dark again. Wherever she is going, she won't come back fast enough.

The nurse did return, as it turned out. She brought another woman into the room with her and for a moment I was confused. "My name is Mary, what can I do for you?" Says the stranger kindly. I still have no idea what she is doing here, but the nurse has made a hasty retreat and it is Mary or no one.

"Could you... Sit with me for a while?" I hate myself. Why am I always so weak?

"Of course. That's what I'm here for. Want to play a card game?" Mary seems unaware of the fact that I find this predicament humiliating. In fact, she looks right at home sitting in the chair next to my bed.

"You must think I'm a terrible fool." I have no idea why I want to explain things to this woman, but I need her to know that I'm not always like this.

"It's natural to be lonely at times. When you don't feel good the feelings just get sharper." Mary is dismissive of my self loathing. Maybe she has a point.

"Could you just sit with me until I fall asleep?" I ask, more confident now that I am not asking for something too big.

"No problem." She's settled into Millardo's chair, looking completely undisturbed. "Nobody should be alone if they don't have to be."

I'm sleepy, barely conscious, but her words have struck a cord with me. "But I'm always alone." I mumble sleepily.

As I plunge into unconsciousness, I swear I can hear her say: "Then I am very sorry for you."

I'm going to see my humiliation all over the television any minute now. There is no way that the nurse didn't tell someone about my breakdown. The Celebrity Watch is on in fifteen minutes, if the stories not there, it won't be anywhere. Ten minutes to go. Five minutes to go.

So the nurse does have some professional integrity. That or the hospital would fire her for talking. Whichever it is, I don't mind.

The young nurse comes in at five o'clock, humming casually. I pounce on the opportunity to talk to her. "Who was that woman you brought in here last night?" I sound more interrogative then I wanted to. She's going to think I'm offended.

"Mary? She's one of the volunteers. She comes and reads the children and sits with the older patients. Why? Did she say something unkind?" The nurse sounded as though she could hardly imagine such a thing occurring. Clearly, Mary walks on water around here.

"No, I was just curious. Please thank her for me, when you see her." I'm trying to sound more polite, but I think I'm only sounding snooty. Being bedridden has made me crabby.

For a minute, the nurse's brow furrows in deep concentration. "Oh! I almost forgot, you have a visitor ma'am." She finally exclaims.

"If it's my brother, please tell him I'm sleeping." I don't care if she tells every other nurse in the ward I said that, I'm too tired to assure someone else I'm alright when I'm fairly certain I'm not.

She looks confused, but she has a surprise for me. "No ma'am, it's a young man."

Who on Earth do I know that would come and visit me? I'm not close with very many young men. I know who I want it to be, and I'll admit for a minute my heart leapt to my throat. But no, he wouldn't use a door, he'd simply break in. That was his way. I'm too curious to turn this person down, even if I am tired. "Show him in please." I say with my very best gracious smile perfectly in place.

He's not coming. Whoever he was, he is obviously not coming in. I've been waiting here for ten minutes and he still hasn't shown his face. The nurse hasn't even come back. Did she make him up? Was she simply having a good laugh at my expense? Or did my visitor rethink his desire to see me?

The door is opening, and I'm about ready to give the nurse a good tongue lashing. But it's not the nurse coming in.

"Ojousan." My visitor has violet eyes, a playful grin and a three and a half foot braid swinging behind him. Duo. Heero's friend and sometime travel companion. I remember. He tried to save me from Heero the first time he threatened me. He's a sweetheart, but he's hardly someone I would have expected to come and visit me in the hospital. I haven't seen him since I was eighteen and visiting a colony in L2 on some kind of campaign circuit. He had sought me out after my speech and we had a pleasant but brief conversation. He looks different. He's taller, more filled out, and his hair is a few shades lighter then I remember. It may be sun bleached, but I have no way of knowing.

"Duo Maxwell." A small smile is playing on my lips. I don't know why, but this boy's cheerfulness is infectious. "What brings you to my neck of the woods?" I hate to bridge the topic too quickly, but I know there is no way he would have come out of the blue for nothing.

"Actually, Quatre sent me as a peace offering." His grin was even wider now, "He said you wouldn't be too happy to see him if he came himself."

I feel as though a stone was just dropped into my stomach. Mr. Winner feels bad, so he is trying to make it up by having his friend come and be nice to me?

Duo must see what I am thinking. His grin has a forced edge to it. "I wanted to come anyway, but I wasn't sure they'd let me in. Quatre sort of used his influence to make sure the nurse would ask you if I could come in..." His grin is now sheepish; he wants me to laugh. I don't want to laugh. I want to put my head between my knees and sob my heart out, but I won't let him know this. "Look, I want to explain about the whole Heero thing..." Here is comes. Now he's going to stick the knife in. "It's not like he specifically told us not to tell you where he was, it's just... We figure he'll tell you when he's ready, and..." I'm not listening anymore. I can feel my anger boiling inside me. So they all just figured Heero didn't want his little stalker to know where he was. What a fine little joke. Let's all not tell Relena Heero thinks she's annoying and see what an ass she makes of herself. How many of them new about my obsession with Heero? How many of them were in on this sick joke of theirs? Who did these people think they were? How did THEY find out where he was? It's not like Heero would send out a little card with his address on it. I don't want to hear anymore about what they think is best for Heero or me. I don't want anything more to do with Heero Yuy.

"Duo." I put enough venom into my voice to silence him instantly. "I think it would be best if you would leave. I'm tired." I don't even wait for him to walk out the door before I roll over and put my back to him. I don't need his pity, I don't need Quatre's pity, and I especially don't need the pity of a certain pilot 01.

Author's Note: I didn't like this chapter as much. First, I hate portraying Relena as angry, because she is hard to capture that way. Second, I don't like picking on Duo. : ) I know this seems weak on plot, I will try to pick it up next chapter. I do have an idea of which direction I want to take this, I am just having some problems getting there. Everything about this chapter was awkward; I'll try to fix it for later installments.


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